


Having His Cake

by fengirl88



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Chocolate, Fluff, Kissbingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft usually disapproves of eating in bed.</p><p>sequel to Losing It, In Fact</p>
            </blockquote>





	Having His Cake

**Author's Note:**

> written for the square "experimental: chocolate" on my kissbingo card. Thanks to blooms84 for the beta; this one is for her and ginbitch, with affection and gratitude.
> 
> The cake in question also appears in Do Not Open.

“Where did you get that?” Mycroft asks, trying not to drool.

Can’t remember the last time a piece of cake looked so tempting.

“Watson dropped it off. Apparently it’s his birthday,” Lestrade says.

Of course it is. Mycroft had forgotten. Probably distracted. He’s been distracted quite a lot recently, which really won’t do. It’s hardly surprising; but he’s not sure his superiors would understand if he told them about it. _Ever since I became intimate with DI Lestrade I have been unable to give my full attention to my work_ wasn’t going to be an acceptable explanation. Maybe if he showed them a picture of Lestrade. A picture of Lestrade naked? Mycroft groans.

“Didn’t realize you felt that strongly about chocolate fudge cake,” Lestrade says teasingly.

Mycroft almost says _It’s not about that_ , but he’s getting better at knowing when Lestrade’s just pretending to get the wrong end of the stick. “Nice of John to give you a piece,” he says, licking his lips and trying to remind himself of all the reasons he shouldn’t be interested.

“I think it’s for both of us,” Lestrade says. “He says _Sherlock_ bought it for him.”

That _is_ quite surprising. Sherlock’s never shown much concern for other people’s birthdays, while of course sulking prodigiously if anyone forgets _his_.

“Looks like your brother’s got it bad this time,” Lestrade says, grinning.

“He’s not the only one,” Mycroft says, amazed at his own daring.

“You think Watson’s nuts about him too?” Lestrade asks.

“I meant me,” Mycroft says, blushing furiously; then he sees Lestrade’s expression. “Oh, you’re doing it _again_ , you wretch. Honestly, I – _Mmf._ ”

It is, of course, impossible to talk coherently when someone insists on pushing his fingers into your mouth. The additional distraction of chocolate fudge icing and cake crumbs on those fingers is more than anyone could be expected to cope with.

Mycroft licks and sucks greedily at Lestrade’s fingers till Lestrade is groaning and pressing hard against him.

“Let’s go to bed,” Lestrade says, pushing his other hand between Mycroft’s thighs. “I’ll bring the cake so you can have that too.”

Mycroft usually disapproves of eating in bed. Messy. Particularly if it’s something that leaves _crumbs_. The whipped cream was – _oh good gracious_ , just thinking about the whipped cream does the most extraordinary things to him. Licking whipped cream off Lestrade. Having whipped cream licked off him by Lestrade. He hadn’t been able to look at a trifle without blushing for weeks, never mind a cream doughnut. Shouldn’t have been looking at them at all, of course: still dieting.

But he’s taking much more exercise now. Of the sort he wanted. Involving DI Lestrade. And the more energetic it is, the better it seems to be for the waistline. Mycroft’s in better shape than he’s been for _years_ , and Lestrade keeps saying he thought he was a nice shape to start with, which still surprises Mycroft but makes him very happy. So maybe _one_ slice of John Watson’s birthday cake, half a slice really, wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Lestrade swipes another fingerful of chocolate fudge icing across Mycroft’s lips and then kisses him, slipping his tongue into Mycroft’s mouth. Mycroft moans with pleasure, swallowing the melting sweetness and caressing Lestrade’s tongue with his own.

“Mm,” Lestrade says appreciatively. “Very nice. I bet that would taste good on other bits of you as well.”

“Or you,” Mycroft says, salivating. Running his tongue over Lestrade’s body is his idea of heaven, with or without chocolate fudge icing.

“Right,” Lestrade says, sounding surprised but pleased. “Fine by me. We can take it in turns if you like.” He pulls Mycroft close and kisses him again till he’s almost fainting with delight.

“You’ll be the undoing of me,” Mycroft moans, not sure if he’s complaining or boasting.

“Well, you know what they say,” Lestrade says, grinning and pushing him gently but inexorably towards the bedroom. “It’s a dirty job but somebody’s got to do it.”

It may be John Watson’s cake, but it feels like Mycroft’s birthday too. Chocolate fudge cake _and_ sex with DI Lestrade? On second thoughts, Mycroft concludes dizzily, make that several birthdays rolled into one.


End file.
